Lessons Learned
by Julie Windred
Summary: Sequel to the wildy popular Resuce Me, 6 months in the waiting... have I caught your interest yet with my movie spiel? Details: Chris learns about the reopening of the underworld and Paris learns to use her new powers.
1. Default Chapter

_Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters in the following fanfic (except Paris and various extras who did not appear on the Charmed series). They are the property of Spelling Entertainment and the writers and creators of the television show Charmed. _

_Author's Thanks: Thank you to those that reviewed my previous Charmed fic "Rescue Me". I apologise for throwing it all into one chapter, and for the disclaimer not being there (that really was a super-hurried posting job cause I was sick of it sitting on my computer for so long). I promise to do better this time around! As for your comments, thank you for the praise … I'm glad all those sleepless nights I spent in a mad writing frenzy after Chris' death provided some enjoyment for others. And although I had never planned a sequel, those of you that requested and suggested ideas certainly got my brain working overtime, and so I have tried incredibly hard to fulfil that wish._

_Author's Notes: Just in case you feel a little lost, Chris is Piper Leo's second son who, in season 6, came back from the future to save his older brother Wyatt from turning evil. The future settings in this story are developed from Phoebe's vision in "The Legend of Sleepy Halliwell" and the future that has developed from Chris going back to the past. My last fanfic was based on Chris being stuck in a continual time loop, therefore the cycle of him travelling back to the past was not broken until he returned to the future (my theory for time travel being that they are missing or jump into their own bodies and don't replicate themselves with the whole travelling back and forth through time thing). And for those who completely skipped over the last story, and have just come straight to this one, Paris is Phoebe's daughter (who she was pregnant with in that vision from the "Sleepy Halliwell" episode) and I refuse to reveal the identity of the father because I, in fact, do not know as it's yet to be revealed on the show. Thanks again everyone, and enjoy!_

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**Lessons Learned**

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It was the middle of the afternoon on a bright, sunny day in San Francisco. A popular club named P3 was preparing to open its doors for another night. Inside, Piper Halliwell was lifting another bar stool off the table and placing it right-side up on the floor. There was a man behind the bar, his sleeves turned up, who was stacking clean glasses within easy reach for the bartenders to use later that night. Piper upended the last bar stool, then came and sat on the other side of the bar from her employee. She glanced around the dimly lit club, smiling a satisfied smile, as she placed her hands together on the bar's polished surface. 

"Must be good to have Chris back around," Brett said.

Piper looked back to him and smiled warmly. "You better know it is."

Brett picked up another glass and wiped out the inside with a tea towel, then threw the cloth over his shoulder. "Definitely a big weight off your shoulders."

She nodded. "I'm just so relieved that he came back in one piece."

Brett clasped the counter's edge and leant forward. "If you don't mind me asking, where was he all that time?"

"Nowhere," Piper said, straightening in defence. Brett drew back.

"I just find it odd that a kid, and not that I'm targeting your kid, but the fact that he took off without so much as a word, putting you through all this anguish, could come back after all this time without any stories to tell."

"He's just a very private person, Brett. I'm sure he'll speak with me, or Leo, when he's ready. You have to realise that he's just been through a traumatic time as well, being separated from his family for so long."

"So you're keeping an eye on him?"

"Helping him reconnect," Piper returned. "Besides, I appreciate his help. Someone has to look after this place when I'm not around." Brett pouted playfully. "Hey, don't be like that. It's not like I'm relinquishing command to him. Just giving him something to do."

Brett smirked, taking the tea towel from his shoulder and turning to clean the rest of the glasses. Piper pulled herself up from her seat and made her way towards the back room. Opening the door, she discovered that the office was still, for the most part, in shambles. Boxes of stock which they had not been able to fit on the shelves had been packed all about the floor of the room. Chris was seated behind the desk, a few sheets of paper spread in front of him in what looked to be the cleanest section of the room. The computer was on, but he was not facing it. Instead he was on the phone, pen in hand, making a few notes and completely oblivious to Piper's entrance into the room.

"No, that should be fine. Of course, yes, that's not a problem. Great. Yes, I've got your number if I need you. Thanks, Candy, I'll see you Friday. Bye." He placed the receiver down and glanced up to see Piper standing in the doorway. "Oh, hi mom."

Piper crossed her arms, giving him a curious little smile. "Who was that?"

"That?" he replied. He smiled, his gaze dropping as he began to shuffle the papers in front of him together. "That was the entertainment for Friday night."

"The entertainment?" Piper questioned. He nodded. "You booked entertainment for Friday with someone named Candy?"

"Uh huh."

Piper moved towards him. "Chris, you do realise we're not running a strip club here, right?" He sat back in his chair and laughed. She looked at him obstinately. "I'm serious!"

"No, mom, it's okay. I've got it all under control."

"Well I hope so, for your sake. I'm trusting you, Chris."

He lent on his hand, smirking as he glanced back down to what was in front of him. He hoped that he was doing his mother proud, and was grateful that he was getting a second chance with her now that the cause and effect of him travelling to the past had allowed her to live longer than she originally had.

* * *

Paris sat in the armchair of her living room, leafing through old photo albums. She tilted her head, her long brown hair falling over her shoulders, as she browsed through pictures of past family gatherings. It was taking her a while to adjust to the fact that Wyatt was good now; that she had parallel memories of two different lives – the one she'd left, and the one she was now living. She'd now formed an unbreakable bond with her cousin, Chris, over what had happened to them, and she knew that he was struggling ten times worse than she was with putting everything into perspective. Paris' life had barely changed at all. Sure her mom was home a lot more, but she hadn't had anything detrimental happen like what had happened to Chris. He'd lost a fiancé, but gained a mother, and an attentive father, and a brother whose personality appeared to be the complete opposite of what it had once been.

"Want some popcorn?" Phoebe asked, standing in front of her. Paris looked up at her mother. She held a bowl of popcorn in one hand, and a video in the other. Paris smiled back at her beaming mother, and took a handful of popcorn from the bowl.

"Video night, huh?" Paris said. "What did you get?" Phoebe flipped the cover around and Paris groaned. "Not again!"

"What's wrong with it?" Phoebe asked, looking from her daughter to the video case.

"It's the worst horror movie I've ever seen."

"What are you talking about? 'Kill it before it dies' is a classic."

"No, it's not a classic. Only you would call it a classic, mom."

Phoebe walked over to the VCR and popped the tape in, then plopped herself down on the couch and pressed play. "Well I'm going to watch it. You can join me if you like."

"Thanks but I think the first three hundred times were enough."

Phoebe ignored her, pulling the bowl of popcorn onto her lap and placing a piece into her mouth. Paris looked back down at the album, at the photographs of her mom, and smiled to herself. She really did look like her mom when she was younger.


	2. Chapter 2

It was late Friday afternoon, and P3 was a bustle of activity just an hour before they opened their doors. Chris stood by the stairs that led into the club, rolling out a poster onto the wall and pinning its edges.

"Is that who's on tonight?" Brett asked from behind him. Chris jumped, and turned to see Brett had been right behind him, peering at the poster over his shoulder.

"God… do you have to sneak up on me like that?" Chris retaliated.

Brett smiled. "Sorry."

Chris sighed, rolling his eyes. "Yeah, that's the band I booked."

"Picasso View," Brett read aloud. "Sounds… interesting."

"Well, I'm sure you're a little to old to notice, but most good bands have interesting names nowadays," Chris said sarcastically.

"Hey," Brett said, holding his hands up, "settle down, tiger. I'm not trying to yank your chain or anything. It's your first gig booking. I'm sure you'll work it all out in time."

Chris picked up the other rolled up posters and held them out to him. "Then why don't you give me a hand and put the rest of these up, and I'll go show the band where they can set up."

Brett snatched the posters from Chris' hand and headed for the bar. Chris made his way across the room to the stage where a slightly chubby man with dark hair had appeared, carrying two large black cases in his hands. Band name and tourist location stickers were plastered over the outside surfaces. He stopped before Chris, breathing heavily.

"Where can I put these?" he asked.

"The stage is just up there," Chris replied, pointing to the elevated surface against the back wall.

"Thanks."

Chris watched as he climbed onto the stage and laid the cases down, opening first one and then the other. Chris soon realised he was the band's drummer as he pulled the toms from their cases and positioned them carefully on the stage side by side. A skinny young man with a guitar case passed by Chris and made his way over to the stage to join his band mate, not even taking a second look as he walked by.

"You must be Chris," A woman in dark clothing said as she stopped beside him. Chris looked at her questioningly. "You've got to be the youngest kid here, and it's too early for fans."

"So you would be… Candy?" he asked.

"Yep, that's me." She held out her hand and shook his. "Nice to finally meet you."

"So, is this the whole band?" Chris asked, looking dubiously at the two men on the stage.

"No, the bass player, Stan, he's outside cramming his last cigarette. And Melaina, she won't be here til she's absolutely needed. You know how singers are."

Chris nodded in agreement, though he wasn't sure what she was talking about. He just felt it was safer to agree with her. She was fairly scary looking after all.

"Chris, who's your little friend?" Piper asked as she joined them.

"Oh, mom, this is Candy. Candy, this is Piper Halliwell. She's the owner and manager of P3."

"Nice to meet you," Candy said, giving a nod of her head.

Piper looked Candy up and down. The woman was dressed head to toe in Goth gear, her hair twisted into some kind of alternative ponytail, and she had numerous piercings, as well as dark makeup painted across her face. She was definitely not what Piper was expecting. She looked at Chris.

"Not a stripper, then?" she said.

"Excuse me?" Candy returned, offended. Chris blushed and hung his head. Piper turned back to Candy.

"I'm sorry," Piper apologised. "Everything's fine. I was just teasing him. Please, enjoy yourself. The bar is right over there."

Chris waited for Candy to leave before he again lifted his head. "Geez, mom, do you have to embarrass me like that? I was trying to be all professional about it."

"Aw, sweetie, I promise I won't do it again," she said. He gave her a little smile. "Besides, where's the fun in this if I can't torment you a little? Now go, the band needs you to help set up, otherwise they'll never get their sound check over and done with."

P3 again reached capacity crowd that night. It had never lost its popularity over the years. Chris edged himself through the crowd gathered around the stairs and over to the bar where Piper and Paige sat, both with glasses in hand.

"Hey," he said, taking a seat next to them.

"Hey, little nephew," Paige responded happily. "You never told me you were a star booking agent."

"You did a good job, Chris," Piper followed. Chris smiled sheepishly.

"Yeah, I mean you just have to look around to see how packed it is," Paige agreed. "I hope the band's good. What are they called again?"

"Picasso View," Chris answered.

"Picasso View," Paige repeated, mulling it over. She smiled and nodded sharply. "I like it; sounds very original."

The lights around the club dimmed a little, and the crowd began to fall silent, as the first soft drum beats sounded over the noise. A bass guitar began plucking low notes as the cymbals chimed in along with the steady thud of the bass drum. An electric guitar began to slide over a few notes, soaring from a softer volume into a larger, more consistent buzzing noise. Gentle, seductive vocals began to emanate from the microphone and spread in rippling waves across the room. The vocals stopped, and the stage lit up as the drummer began a steady drumbeat. A spotlight cast itself over the lead singer and she looked up, tossing her ash blonde hair over her shoulder. Her green eyes surveyed the room, and finally locked with Chris' as she began to sing again.

"In these nightmares, these dreams of when you're gone, I will lose myself again," she sang. "There is something I want from you today, inside these feelings that won't go away. And I love you more than I should. I'm chained and bound inside this world, and it's broken, it's no good. Why don't you shatter your fears and come over here?"

Chris could hear cheering and whistling coming from behind him, but his focus was entirely on Melaina. Her voice seemed to be carrying him away to another place, and he felt as if every word she was singing was meant for him. He broke her gaze, looking away and ordering a drink for himself. When he looked back, she was looking in another direction, still singing with that magical voice, and he noticed for the first time that around her neck hung an amulet. It was round and green in colour, quite similar to those which he had seen on the Valkyries.

"Chris?" Paige yelled behind him.

"Huh, what?" he responded, turning on his chair.

"They're really good!" Paige shouted again, trying to amplify her voice over the loud music. Chris smiled and nodded. He reached back and tapped his mother on the arm.

"Does that look like a Valkyrie necklace?" he called.

"What?" Piper asked, leaning in closer to him.

"On the singer. Is that a Valkyrie necklace?" Chris repeated. She glanced up then looked back at him and shrugged.

"I don't think so. That was a long time ago. You'd have to check the book."

Chris sighed dejectedly and pulled back, turning his attention to the band as they began their second song. An hour later Chris had the opportunity to approach the stage, the crowd dispersing as the band began to pack up their instruments.

"Are they selling their CDs?" Paige asked Chris as he slid off his chair.

"I don't know," he replied. "You'll have to check with Candy."

"She's the non-stripper Goth lady down the front there," Piper explained.

"Mom!" Chris cried. Piper smiled.

"I love their music. It's really abstract," Paige continued to babble as she followed Chris down to the stage. The guitarist breezed by them on his way to the bar, again walking as if he had blinders on. Stan, it appeared, had disappeared outside again. Paige made a sharp turn towards Candy, whilst Chris climbed up onto the stage to greet the only band member who was left.

"Anthony, hey, that was a great set," Chris said.

"Thanks man," Anthony said, offering a sweaty palm for Chris to shake. Chris subconsciously wiped his hands on his jeans as he drew back, relaxing into a more casual pose.

"Any chance I could get to speak with Melaina?" he asked.

"Oh, another fan, huh?" Anthony said, his lips spreading into a knowing smile. Chris found it rather creepy. "Just give her a few minutes and she'll be back."

Minutes later, Melaina ascended the steps at the side of the stage, her figure masked in darkness as she leant to sign various items from the devoted fans that surrounded her.

"Melaina, you got another one," Anthony called from the floor, tossing his head to indicate Chris standing beside him.

Melaina glanced up, her green eyes flickering like a cat's in a darkened alley. She moved towards Chris in a smooth fashion, as if she was not walking but merely floating across the stage. She stopped before him, looking him in the eye. Chris' attention diverted to the stone around her neck. Even up close it seemed to be a Valkyrie necklace. His hand drifted upwards, ready to clasp it in his hand and determine whether the stone was what he believed it to be. Melaina easily manoeuvred her palm into his and brought his hand down in greeting. Surprised, Chris' gaze jumped to hers, only to find that her irises had disappeared, and her eyes had taken on a milky white colour. Despite this, he felt as if she was looking through him, seeing beyond his eyes and delving deep down into his memories, into his soul. He pulled his hand away rapidly, as if he'd just received a shock from an electric current. When he looked back at her, she had returned to what he had seen before.

"I know who you are," she said simply.

Chris panicked and, feeling overly exposed standing on the stage with her, grabbed her wrist and dived through the crowd, clearing a pathway to the back office. He closed the door behind them.

"Alright, who sent you here? Valkyries don't just leave Valhalla to perform in dimly lit clubs."

"You think I'm Valkyrie?" Melaina returned.

"Well, yeah, of course you are."

"Under the present circumstances, I've seen nothing to suggest that."

"You're wearing the stone."

"This?" Melaina said, lifting the green stone in her hand and glancing down at it. "This is not a stone. It's a key."

"A key," Chris said disbelievingly.

"Yes. This stone contains the key, one which I am bound to watch over."

"Right. And what exactly does this key open?"

"The gate to the underworld."

"You're mad!" Chris exclaimed. "There's no 'gate' to the underworld."

"Choose what you wish to believe, Chris. I chose to seek you out for a purpose."

"Wait, how do you know who I am?"

"You are the timechild."

"The timechild? What do you mean the timechild?"

"You are the child that was blessed with the ability to travel back through time to right a great evil. It was only when this evil was righted that you were able to break the loop and return home safely. Your presence in the past affected the future detrimentally. It was because of you that the Elders created me, to oversee the barrier that was formed between here and the underworld."

"Hang on," Chris protested. "I wasn't the only one who travelled back in time."

"No, but you either travelled with them or were in their presence when the portal was created. It is you that has the gift of time."

"If you're telling me the truth, if the Elders really did create you, why didn't you just go to them for help?"

"There are those who I cannot trust. I'm sure that you understand. The threat of the underworld reopening is upon us, and I fear I can do no more."

"So what do you want me to do? Go back in time and fix it for you?"

"Would that be such an unwise move?" she questioned.

"No. Forget that. I am not jumping into any more time portals. I promised my parents that I wouldn't."

Melaina's gaze dropped, her expression downcast. "I am sorry to hear that, Chris. I hope you are prepared to face what is to come."

Chris watched as she passed by him and opened up the door.

"I'm not afraid of the underworld," he called defiantly after her. "I've been through it before."

Melaina turned back, nodding in agreement. Chris understood that she knew. She had seen it all, and she knew exactly what he had been through. The door closed behind her, and when Chris finally made a move to follow, he found that he couldn't see her anymore. She had gone.

After the last stragglers of the night had stumbled their way out of the club, Chris took the keys into his hand and left the club himself, locking the doors to P3 securely behind him. It was still dark outside, and the streetlights along the kerb reflected their ghoulish white patches of light across the street. Chris shoved his hands into his jacket pockets and headed towards his car in silence. The only noise he could hear was a soft muttering of many voices that sounded as if it were coming from the back of his mind.

"The end is coming," a voice suddenly sounded very loudly to his right. Chris jumped, skirting away from the voice, and looked to see that it was coming from what appeared to be a blind man standing against the wall of the club. He continued along his way, throwing cautious glances over his shoulder at the unmoving figure. The blind man again returned to his low volume muttering as Chris fumbled with the car keys, trying to get into the lone vehicle in the parking lot as quickly as he could.

He arrived home to find the light in the living room was still on. He took his jacket off, left the keys on the side-table, and moved towards the lighted room. Leo looked up from the couch as Chris stopped in the doorway.

"Hello, son," he said.

"Dad? What are you still doing up?" Chris asked.

"Ah, I couldn't sleep," Leo replied, and then looked back down at the map on the table. Chris glanced down to see that he was scrying for something.

"Who are you looking for?" Chris asked.

"There was a disturbance in the area not long ago. The Elders were concerned."

"You're still speaking with them?"

"Yes. For the moment."

Chris was undecided about whether this was a good thing or a bad thing. He took a seat next to his father and watched Leo's hand spin the thread.

"You know the Elders pretty well, right?" he began. "Is there any way that they could 'make' a being?"

Leo stopped suddenly, snapping the crystal into his hand, and stared straight at Chris. "What do you mean?"

"You know, a person. Someone that watches over something… or someone"

Leo smiled. "They're called Whitelighters, Chris."

"No. I'm not talking about that. I'm talking about mythological beings."

"Okay, Chris. What aren't you telling me?"

Chris looked away, drawing his lips in as he thought back over his conversation with Melaina. "Is there a gate to the underworld?"

"A gate?" Leo questioned. From Chris' expression, he knew he was serious. "Not in the physical sense of the word, but there was a barrier put in place by the Elders as a temporary measure."

"Because of me?"

"What? Chris, no."

"Because I meddled in the past."

Leo sighed. "I thought that was where you were. But these decisions were not made because you went back to the past, Chris. They were based on other factors as well."

Chris realised what Leo was hinting at and a feeling of annoyance began to rise in him. "So they only just decided that maybe they should do something to prevent Wyatt turning evil? Like blocking out the problem?"

"That's one way to look at it."

"Then that's the reason. That's why she came to me."

"Who?"

"Melaina."

"The guardian."

"So you've met her?"

"Once or twice."

"Why do I get the feeling that everybody knows about her except for me?"

"It's not like that, Chris. She's not a big secret, but it is unsafe for her to come up here. What was she doing here anyway?"

"Performing in a band," Chris answered. Leo gave him a puzzled look. "At the club. A band I booked."

"And you didn't know about her?"

"Well, no. That's the weird part. I only spoke with their manager to arrange the whole thing. I didn't even see her until tonight."

"And, what, she just asked for your help out of the blue?"

"Pretty much. She seemed to know everything about me."

"What did you say to her?"

"I told her I couldn't help. I didn't want to mess things up again. "

Leo looked back down at the map on the table. "Maybe she has something to do with the disturbance that the Elders were so concerned about. Look, why don't you head off to bed, and I'll keep scrying, see if I can turn up anything."

Chris nodded solemnly and then headed up the stairs towards his room. As determined as he was to fall asleep once his head hit the pillow, he couldn't help but try to piece together the events of the night. Things that had once seemed impossible to him were now made possible, simply because of the slight changes that had been made in the past. Eventually his mind settled enough to allow him to drift into a dreamless sleep. When he awoke, the time had almost ticked into the afternoon, and he rushed to get himself ready so that he could open up the club.

He stopped his car outside P3 and surveyed the grounds as he cut the engine. It appeared to be just as settled and quiet as when he'd left it earlier that morning, only there was no blind man outside bellowing words of ill favour. Feeling he could put the events of the night before behind him, Chris locked up his car and strolled over to the entrance, pushing the key into the slot on the front door. A soft breeze picked up behind him, blowing his hair as he clicked the latch open.

He descended the stairs into the darkness, flipping the light switch as he hit the bottom. The room buzzed into life and again it was as clean and soulless as when he'd left it. He moved towards the back room, smiling to himself at his unwarranted paranoia. With every step he jingled the club keys in his palm. He stopped outside the doorway. It was slightly ajar and he didn't remember leaving it open. Chris began to wonder if someone had come in early to put away new stock, as the door felt quite heavy under his hands when he pushed it. Once inside the back room, Chris tossed the keys onto the desk, and then jumped with a start as a loud slamming noise followed from behind him. Chris turned to find the door closed and a body propped up against the back of it. He crouched down near the body and moved the ash blonde strands of hair from the woman's face. It was Melaina, but without the vivid engaging aura about her she appeared pale and almost withered looking. She was clearly dead and, what's more, the stone that hung around her neck was missing. Chris backed away, his sneakers treading on fragmented green pieces strewn across the floor nearby. Broken shards were the only remains of the stone that was the key – the key to the underworld.

"This is not good," Chris stated, realising that he was the only person who had been inside the building in the past twelve hours.

He orbed back to the manor. Standing in the hallway he could see through the open front door that his mother was loading up her old jeep – obviously planning to head out somewhere.

"Mom!" he called, racing out to the front yard. "Mom, wait!"

Piper closed the boot turning to look at her son. "Chris, what's wrong?" She glanced around. "Where's your car?"

"At the club. I need you to help me. I can't go to jail again."

"Jail? Chris, what on earth are you talking about?"

"There's a dead woman at the club."

"What? Who?"

"Melaina." Piper looked at him blankly. "The singer from the band last night. I was the last person to leave. I'm going to be the first person they come looking for."

"No you're not, Chris. Just take me back to where you found her and we'll work this out."

They headed back into the house, out of view, before orbing over to P3. The door was sill closed when they materialised. Piper looked around the empty back room.

"Well, where is she? Under the desk?"

Chris stared in disbelief, indicating the floor behind the door. "She was right here. Just…" He stopped, bending down to pick up a green fragment off the floor and holding it up to Piper. "This is from the stone that she wore."

Piper blinked and shook her head in confusion. "What, the Valkyrie stone?"

"No, not… it wasn't a Valkyrie stone, it was a key. To the underworld."

Piper laughed. "Okay, Chris, you've had your fun. But I've got somewhere else to be today."

"I'm serious!" he protested. She looked at him doubtfully. "Ask dad!"

"What's Leo got to do with all this?"

A noise sounded outside and they both looked towards the doorway. Piper opened the door and walked into the main area of the club, Chris following closely behind her.

"Brett, what are you doing here?" Piper asked.

Brett looked up from behind the bar, surprised, and indicated back towards the entrance. "The door was open. I thought I'd come check it out, make sure the place wasn't being robbed. You know how it is sometimes, you get paranoid trying to remember if you locked the door or not."

Forgetting that Chris had told her that he was the last to leave, Piper accepted Brett's story, but Chris himself gave the bartender a suspicious look. Piper looked around the room, trying to see if she could spot Picasso View's singer anywhere.

"You haven't seen a young blonde girl floating around, have you?" she asked.

"No, why?" Brett answered.

"Oh, well Chris…" Piper glanced back to Chris and realised she probably shouldn't have started the sentence. "Never mind."

"Don't tell me he's hooked up with the singer already," Brett sighed, rolling his eyes in disgust.

"Hey, no!" Chris cried angrily, gesturing towards Brett, his gaze flitting between the bartender and his mother.

"We've got everything under control, Brett. Chris can open up for tonight. Why don't you just take some time away from the place and we'll see you tonight, okay?" Piper said. Brett frowned. She waved him on as he reluctantly headed towards the stairs. "Go, have fun. There's a whole world out there to explore."

Brett glanced back towards them, and then made his way up the stairs and out of the building. Piper turned back towards Chris.

"Okay, I can stay long enough to help you look around a little, but after that you'll have to take me back to my car. We really can't do anything unless there's a body."

True to her word, Piper stayed with Chris for the next hour as they pulled the entire club apart piece by piece, yet they still couldn't turn up a body. Chris took his mother back to her car, and then closed the club momentarily while he went to visit someone he thought could help him.

Ratana was an elderly woman of slightly dark appearance who Chris had sought advice from in his previous future while he was tracking Wyatt. Her residence was well hidden, and she worked in a back room of a building that was lit by thousands of tea light candles, with bright orange veils of silk strung about the room. Wind chimes, flutes, and other various objects dangled down from the ceiling of the small room, and when Chris entered through the doorway he had to duck low to keep from hitting his head on anything. Ratana sat in peaceful meditation across from him, behind a wooden table that was covered with a soft velvet cloth. Her hands flowed over the table, and her eyes sprung open to stare at Chris, giving him the same eerie feeling he had felt when he'd first come in contact with Melaina.

"My child, you look oddly familiar, though I know we have not met," she said.

Chris sat across from her, his eyes glancing forlornly down at the table before him and then back up to her face.

"Perhaps in another life," Chris said.

She eyed him closely as she drew her words out in slow thought. "Yes, perhaps. What can I do for you?"

"I need some advice. A reading."

"The cards know your future," Ratana said, her hand moving to the side and hovering over a deck of tarot cards. She did not look away from Chris' face. With her free hand, she took hold of Chris' and placed the deck of cards into his palm. "Fate is in your hands."

Chris shuffled the cards and handed them back to Ratana. She laid them out on the table, five cards in the shape of a cross, and then a sixth off to the right hand side. She placed the rest of the desk underneath the sixth card, and her nimble fingers gently touched the back of the first card which lay in the centre of the cross.

"This card represents what you have come here for," she said, and flipped the card over. A multitude of swords covered the card; ten in number. Ratana reeled back as if the swords had grazed her fingers. Chris, in response, leant forward in earnest. "This is the worst card of the deck."

"What does it mean?" he persisted.

"This card spells ruin," Ratana answered. She looked up to meet his eyes. "A troubled time is about to begin. It will last for a long period of time. You must not give in to negative thinking."

"How does it start?" Chris enquired. Ratana turned over the next card, to the left of the first. On it was a figure of a man holding a sword.

"There is a man who is not what he appears to be. He is a spy, a rival. He is spiteful and will lie for his own ends," Ratana explained. She turned over the next card which lay above the first. Pictured on it were three swords piercing a heart. She looked directly at Chris. "And you, you are suffering from heartache. You are confused and worried. There has been a grand upheaval which is causing you a great deal of stress. You have a long way to go in the healing process."

Chris was beginning to feel as if the reading was drifting away from the matter at hand. He needed to direct her attention back to his problem. "If the barrier breaks down… then what's going to happen?"

Ratana turned over the card at the bottom of the cross. Again there was a row of swords, this time only eight in number. "I foresee a run of bad luck. You will feel trapped and powerless. Patience is needed on your part, and you will need to recognize that help is available." She turned over the fifth card, the last of the cross, which was the card of The Moon. "The oracle warns you to take care, for all is not as it seems. You must use your intuition to deal with this situation. The path you are on is a difficult one, but you must continue along it even if your thoughts are plagued by doubts."

Chris stared down at the cards that were laid out before him. The cross, normally a holy symbol, was giving him nothing but bad news. Ratana had answered his question, the underworld was about to reopen, and by his simple refusal of helping Melaina he had become powerless to stop it. All he knew now was that he was going to have to fight whatever menacing power appeared first. And the man, the one who started this, the one who wasn't what he appeared to be. His rival. He could think of no-one other than Wyatt. But was it possible that after everything he had done in the past, that Wyatt was still able to turn evil in the future? Chris thought it might be a wise idea to pay his older brother a visit. He scooted the chair back and headed for the door.

"There is one more thing," Ratana called to him. He stopped and looked back. She flipped over the sixth card – The High Priestess. "The oracle recommends you seek out this woman. She has mystic power and psychic ability. She is the only one who can help you."


	3. Chapter 3

"Cassandra is mentioned briefly in the Iliad of Homer where we learn that she is the child of King Priam of Troy. Unfortunately this epic does not dictate her gifts in prophetic power, so it is left for other ancient works of Greek literature to tell her story," informed the teacher at the front of the classroom.

Paris looked up from her notebook as Mr Slater wrote notes across the blackboard, the small piece of chalk squeaking between his lean fingers as he drilled it into the board to make another bullet point. She rubbed the back of her neck and stared blankly at the white squiggles he had made. Mr Slater's handwriting was barely readable, and it was hard to listen to him as he droned on and on about various names, dates and facts. Paris wrote down what she could read, knowing that everybody would be collaborating after class to piece together various parts of the lesson. Sometimes she just had to wonder if it wouldn't be better if Mr Slater taught them all one on one, five minutes at a time, where they could be free to roam about the halls for the rest of the lesson and do whatever they pleased, still achieving the same result when they collaborated at the end of the period.

Her attention was distracted by a sound outside her classroom, a familiar sound of wind racing through a hollow pipe and distant chimes. She looked to the door. Chris was outside, his eyes set and determined, waving for her to come out to him. She glared back at him, shaking her head quickly, and then turned her attention back to the teacher.

"A legendary god depicted in many works of art, by the name of Apollo, was so taken with Cassandra's beauty that he offered to instruct the mortal woman in the art of prophecy in the hopes of winning her affections. Cassandra was a willing student, but not a willing lover. Feeling insulted, Apollo cursed the woman so that every time she forecast the future people would be convinced that she was instead spreading lies," Mr Slater continued.

Paris looked back to the doorway. Chris was still there, this time silently pleading for her to come out. Paris mouthed her refusal to him this time, and dismissed him with a wave of her hand.

"Is everything okay, Paris?" Mr Slater asked.

Paris' attention snapped back to her teacher, bringing her hand back to the join the other on the desk in front of her. Mr Slater stood with his hand resting on his desk, his eyes full of questions and his expression stern.

"Ah, just… bugs. Flies. Hate them." Paris shuddered.

"Well I'm sure they're long gone. You might want to start concentrating on what we're talking about here," he said. She nodded, slyly glancing back to the door. Chris was gone.

The bell rang not long afterwards. Paris packed all her books together, and threw her bag over her shoulder. Other students stopped just outside the doorway, pulling apart their notebooks and exchanging notes. Paris, knowing her next class was all the way on the other side of the school, brushed past them and hurried down the hallway. She was stopped mid-stride, a hand grabbing her arm and pulling her into a small alcove away from the other students.

"Hey! What…. Chris?" she cried in surprise.

He placed a hand gently over her lips, and then drew back to rest a finger on his so she knew to keep quiet.

"It's okay. It's me," he said.

"What are you doing here?" she hissed.

"I need your help."

"You need my help. On a school day."

"Look, I'm not talking about something trivial here. It's Wyatt. I think he's going to become a threat again."

Paris smirked. "You wanted me to leave class so you could tell me that Wyatt's turning to the dark side. How Luke Skywalker of you."

Chris looked away in annoyance, and then turned his eyes back to her. "I had someone visit me to tell me about the underworld re-opening. It's complicated, but someone I know… well, used to know, she did a reading for me. She said I needed to find the woman with the power of premonition, which would be you."

"How do you know it's me?"

"Well, it has to be. You helped me once before."

"It might not be me, it could be my mom."

"She doesn't have her powers anymore," Chris argued.

"Well neither do I!" Paris shouted back. Chris stopped, surprised, and then pulled her closer to the wall.

"What do you mean you don't have your powers?" he enquired softly.

"It might all be very well and good for you to return home with your powers," Paris began, "but when I got back my life went back to normal. So there was no going to the manor, no breaking locks with my hands, no book premonitions, no time travelling, nothing. It's as if none of it ever happened. We never went to see you, Chris. And I never had any power whatsoever."

Chris shook his head. "This is not right. She told me… are you sure?"

"Yes! Now if you'll excuse me, I have to get to class. You've already made me late."

She briefly looked into the hallway as if checking for traffic, and then moved away from Chris and onto her next class. Chris stayed behind only a moment, confused and uncertain, before orbing out as the school hallway quickly vacated.

* * *

Chris entered San Francisco Memorial Hospital in search of his brother, and found him standing by the nurses' station. He didn't appear to have changed – he was still the mild-mannered, good-natured, short-haired young intern that Chris had just begun to get to know after returning home. He turned at the sound of Chris' footsteps and smiled warmly.

"Chris! How are you? It's good to see some family drop by." He looked back to the nurse behind the counter and winked. "He's my younger brother. He's single you know."

"Wyatt," Chris said seriously. "We need to talk."

Wyatt took Chris' elbow and steered him off to a semi-quiet corridor. "You look troubled. What's the problem?"

"You wouldn't happen to have spoken to a blonde woman on the weekend, would you?"

"There are many blonde women, Chris. You'd have to narrow it down a little for me."

"Well how about a singer? Of a band called Picasso View?"

"Never heard of them."

"So you're telling me you've never heard of a woman named Melaina."

"No. What's this all about, Chris? I'm starting to feel a little interrogated here."

"Apparently the underworld is reopening."

"Really?"

"Don't act so interested, Wyatt. You can't go anywhere near it."

"Are you trying to be my father now? You have to remember that I am older than you. I can do what I please."

"Trust me. It's not going to do you any good, even if you only associate with the characters that live down there."

"And what makes you the expert?"

"I've lived it before."

"Oh, that's right. My little brother, the time travel expert," Wyatt said snidely. "At least I'm responsible enough not to go jumping into portals."

"At least I don't let power go to my head," Chris returned. Wyatt studied Chris' expression, trying to determine the meaning behind what he said. His beeper sounded, interrupting his train of thought, and he held it up to Chris.

"If you'll excuse me, I've got more important business to attend to," he said conceitedly. Chris moved to follow him, but a flick from Wyatt's hand behind his back moved a gurney away from the wall, blocking Chris' path. Frustrated, he pushed the trolley out of his way, and stormed back out of the hospital. It seemed his mother was right, he'd have to turn to the Book of Shadows for help now, and the only thing he had to go on was the memory of Melaina's stone and the little amount of information she had told him.

* * *

"Hey, Paris, thank god I found you."

Paris turned, her fingers still planted in her hair as she pulled the long brown strands back into a ponytail. There was a girl coming towards her with sunburnt orange hair and a worried expression on her face.

"Why, Trisha, what's wrong?"

"It's Ryan. Something's wrong with him."

Paris' hands dropped to her hips. "What did he do this time?"

"That's the thing, I don't know. He's just been really moody lately. He'll be really sweet one day, and the next he won't return my calls. I don't know what's up with him."

Paris could see tears beginning to build in her eyes and reached out a supportive hand to touch her arm.

"Trisha, it's okay." She stopped as an image of Trisha's boyfriend, Ryan, kissing another girl popped into her head. Over Trisha's shoulder she saw Ryan entering the oval between the bleachers, chatting and laughing with that same girl – the head cheerleader. The girl tugged playfully on his letterman jacket. Paris looked back to Trisha. "Break up with him."

"What?" she shrieked.

"Paris, come on. We're about to start!" the track coach called from the starting line.

Paris looked back to Trisha as she headed towards the track. "Trust me, you'll be better off."

She jogged the remaining distance and took the last position between two other girls.

"About time," one of them grumbled.

Paris lowered her head and pushed her foot against the metal start block. She heard the gun go off and launched to her feet, racing down her laneway. The sky darkened, and suddenly everything felt as if it was crowding around her. The trees, the bushes, the misty air, all of it was closing in. Leaves rustled and crunched behind her, and the foul breath of the creature chasing her began to drift up to her nose. Her heart thudded in her chest as she pushed herself to run faster. Her foot caught on something and she tumbled to the ground, her hands sliding across the loose dirt.

"Paris, are you okay?"

"What?" She blinked her eyes, squinting up at her coach. The sun seemed all too bright now.

"You fell," he said, offering her a hand and helping her to her feet. She looked up ahead and saw the other girls were across the finish line trying to catch their breath. She had only made it halfway up the track.

"Fell?" she repeated, her voice sounding like a distant echo in her own mind.

"You must have tripped over your own feet or something," the coach said. He looked her over again. "Are you sure you're alright?"

"Yes, I'm fine," Paris said nodding eagerly, trying to shake her head clear at the same time.

"Why don't you go get yourself cleaned up? We'll try again tomorrow; see if we can't fix the feet problem."

Paris agreed and headed back to the change rooms, looking over her hands to see if she grazed them. Once she was back in her regular clothes, she walked over to the sink and stared in the mirror. Her reflection looked fine; she didn't seem to have changed. She turned the faucet on and scooped her hands underneath the water to splash her face. Out of nowhere, she felt a palm flatten against the small of her back, and another hand wrap around her left arm, pulling her back. Everything began to lighten and Paris wondered if she was about to faint again. The colours darkened into wooden walls, and now Paris had turned enough to see it was her cousin who had hold of her and that they were standing in the middle of the attic at the manor.

"Chris!" she yelled, slapping his chest with her right hand. Surprised, he let her go and took a step back. "What the hell do you think you're doing? You can't just orb me out of class!"

"I had to show you," he began, turning away from her and rounding the dais to the open Book Of Shadows. "This is the cause of all this."

"The cause of all what?" she responded in an annoyed tone. "I swear going back to the past has made you more paranoid. The world's not coming to an end."

"Just look, will you," he said.

She let out an aggravated sigh, and then joined him to look at the book. The old crumpled pages were neatly spread open, and Chris' index finger lay over a green stone on the right hand page. The picture was hand drawn and the stone appeared to have an antique style edging around its border.

"Nice pendant," Paris commented. The look she received from Chris urged her to take it more seriously. Paris squinted to read the text, pencilled out in an Old English style font.

"This was never in the book before," Chris said.

"So what is it exactly?"

"It's a key. The Elders put a barrier in place between here and the underworld after we left the past. This stone is the key to re-opening it."

"You want to re-open the underworld?" Paris asked. She didn't wait for him to respond. "Are you serious?"

"No, I don't want to re-open the underworld," Chris argued. "There's someone else. Someone killed Melaina, the guardian of the key, and I think they've already opened it."

"How do you know?"

"Have you had any premonitions lately?"

Paris paused, remembering the vision of the creature chasing her. She looked away from him quickly and began to walk away from him. "No, I told you, I don't have my powers anymore."

"Have you even tried?"

"What do you mean 'have I tried'? You want me to go around trying to cheat on my exams or something?"

"I wasn't suggesting that."

"Well I honestly don't know what you want from me, Chris. I don't have active powers like you. I can't just turn them on and off."

"You sound like your mother." Chris smirked.

"Well maybe you should get her to help you instead," Paris said, her attention drifting away to the chest by her leg. Curiosity took over and she bent down to open it. Thankfully it wasn't locked, so it was easy for her to peel the lid back and look inside. The chest was filled with weapons. She glanced back at Chris but he had turned his attention back to the book. She pulled out a small dagger, almost identical to the one that Gideon had tried to stab Chris with, only this one had the initials W.W. carved into the handle. She looked it over. "What's this from?"

Chris looked up. "What are you doing with that?"

"It was in the chest."

"Put it down."

"Why?"

"It's dangerous."

"It's a dagger, Chris. I'm not going to stab you with it."

Chris seemed to draw away a little, as if he was expecting her to rush forward and attack him with it. He gathered his thoughts together, repressing old memories, and glanced back to her. "It's an athame. From the Witch Wars. Can you put it back in the chest?"

"Sorry," Paris said, rolling her eyes. She put the athame down.

Chris went back to looking through the book. "There has to be something else in here."

Paris folded her arms and watched him, but her attention kept drifting back to the open chest. There were an awful lot of weapons in there. She felt compelled to pull them all out and inspect them one by one. She eyed Chris again. He was concentrating solely on reading through the pages of the book. She bent down to get a closer look on what was inside. Nicely stocked in a corner was a dark coloured crossbow, the kind you would probably use in those old vampire movies. Paris pulled it out and saw there were a few stray bolts underneath. She pulled one out, feeling the length of the varnished surface, and positioned it in the groove of the crossbow, careful not to catch the two fletches at the end as she loaded it. She stood up again, holding the crossbow in front of her with two hands and closing an eye, wondering how clear a shot she could get of something. She turned herself slowly in a circle.

"Chris, are you up here?" Piper asked appearing in the doorway. She saw Paris standing with crossbow in hand, and Chris not paying any attention at all. "Paris, no!"

"Huh?" Paris said, dropping her arms and turning back towards Piper. Her finger slipped on the trigger and the bolt sailed out of the crossbow. Piper shook her hands in the air, freezing the room. Chris looked up to see the bolt just inches from his face. He stumbled backwards in his rush to get away from it. Piper stormed up to the dais, snatching the bolt out of the air and giving Paris a stern look.

"Just what do you think you're doing?" she shouted.

"Uh, I… I was just…" Paris looked back at the chest and then at her aunt. She didn't know how she could explain nearly shooting Chris.

"You know what this is?" Piper continued, waving the bolt in front of her face. "It's a darklighter arrow. This could have killed him."

Paris hung her head. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to, Aunty Piper."

Piper pulled the crossbow from her hand and placed them both back in the chest, pushing the lid down so that it was securely closed. She turned back to Chris.

"And what is she doing here, Chris? She's meant to be in school."

"You didn't freeze," Chris said, ignoring his mother and staring at Paris.

"What?" Paris returned.

"What? Chris…" Piper began, frustrated that he was ignoring her. She stopped, realisation dawning on her, and turned back to look at Paris. "Oh."

Chris moved forward, halting in front of Paris. "You do have your powers! Why did you say that you didn't?"

"Okay I just have to say, in my defence, that they weren't working until about five minutes before you kidnapped me."

"Chris," Piper scolded.

"Mom, you're missing the point. She has her powers, and she told me she didn't. She's the one that has to help me with this."

"With what?" Piper asked.

"Some key thing," Paris said with a wave of her hand. "Not important."

"It is important!" Chris protested.

"Is this the thing with the girl from the club?" Piper questioned.

"Yes!" Chris cried, frustrated.

"Oh so some girl talked him into this," Paris said to Piper. Piper nodded.

"People, please, back to reality here. I'm talking about a serious threat to our livelihood," Chris said.

"If there was a problem, I'm sure Leo would know about it," Piper said calmly. "Where is your father, anyway? Leo!"

Paris followed her gaze upward. Chris gave an aggravated sigh and went back to the book. Piper looked doubtfully back to the other two.

"That better not be a bad sign," she said. "Chris, keep calling for your father. I'm going to take Paris downstairs, and we're going to call her mother and tell her exactly where she is and what she's been up to."

"Aunty Piper, no," Paris pleaded. "Please, I don't want her to know. If she knew I had powers she'd be twice as worried about me. She wouldn't even let me out of the house!"

"I understand that, Paris, but she is going to wonder why you didn't come home from school, and why you're halfway across the country. We can't just pretend that you're not here," Piper said.

"Why not?" Paris followed.

"Because," Piper said. Paris stared at her, waiting for some kind of motherly explanation. "Well, just because. Now come downstairs so I can use the phone."

Chris listened as they left the attic, flicking over another page in the book. He didn't look up, but he did do what his mother had told him.

"Dad!" he called again. This time Leo appeared, materialising and folding his arms.

"Yeah, Chris. What's up?" he asked.

Chris leant forward, his forearms resting on the book and his hands clasped. He lowered his voice. "Any word on Melaina?"

"The Elders say she's missing."

"I already know that," Chris huffed. "Anything else?"

"No," Leo answered. Chris went back to leafing through the book, this time more fervently. Leo's eyes followed as Chris hastily flipped through the pages. "What are you looking for?"

"Something that could be her killer," Chris replied without looking up.

"How do you know she's dead, Chris? There's no body."

Chris looked up and glared at Leo. "There was a body, okay? I saw it. It's just not there anymore."

"Well maybe we should check that out," Leo said, getting annoyed at his youngest son's tone of voice.

"Don't worry, I already tried," Chris said. "And mom wants you anyway."

"Why? What's wrong?"

"Nothing. We just… have a situation."

"Care to elaborate?"

"Paris is downstairs. I kidnapped her."

"You did what?" Leo cried.

"Ratana told me she has to help me with this. So I orbed her out of school."

"Chris, you know she doesn't know about magic! Why are you using magic around her?"

"She does know, dad, she's got her own powers."

"She has her own powers? Already? Why didn't I hear about this before? Why hasn't Piper or Phoebe told me?"

"Because they didn't know; and because Paris only got her powers five minutes before I brought her here."

"Well she needs a whitelighter then. I'll have to see the Elders," Leo said, orbing back out.

"Dad, wait!" Chris called. Leo disappeared, leaving him to speak the last few words to the thin air. "She doesn't want Phoebe to know."

Piper cradled the phone on her shoulder as she began chopping up the vegetables for dinner. Paris stood sulking by the doorway. Piper glanced up at her as the phone continued to ring on the other end.

"Paris, honey, can you check the chicken for me? Just pull it out and see if it's done."

Paris nodded, opening the oven door and using one of the oven mitts to pull out the tray. She placed it on the bench. It didn't look anywhere near done. She put her hands on the side to feel if it was warm.

Piper put the receiver back in its cradle. "Well, looks like your mom's not home yet. We'll…" She stopped short, turning just as the chicken went up in flames. Paris stepped back in surprise. Piper grabbed a tea towel and threw it over the chicken, patting it with her hands trying to extinguish the flames.

"Aunty Piper?" Paris said, reaching out to help.

"Uh, uh, uh. Hands down," Piper scolded, taking hold of Paris' wrists and bringing her hands down to her sides. "We can't have you destroying the whole kitchen. Just stay like that and I'll get Chris to look after you. Chris!"

"Yeah, mom," he answered, appearing at the foot of the stairs and looking in through the doorway.

"Can you take your cousin out of here, please? Take her to P3 or something." She looked down at the burnt chicken. "Dinner's going to be awhile."

Chris took Paris' arm orbed to the main room inside P3. Paris backed up, taking a seat in front of the bar.

"Now what?" she asked.

"What did you do?" Chris returned.

"Burnt a chicken," Paris said. Chris' expression showed he still didn't understand. "Well, flamed it actually."

Chris took her hands and turned them over. There was nothing wrong with them, not like last time. And Paris had only melted an athame previously, not set it alight. He looked back up at her.

"New power?"

"No power," Paris said, shaking her head and pulling her hands away.

"Paris, you're going to have to deal with it one of these days."

"I don't burn things, Chris. It must have just combusted by itself."

Chris looked at her disbelievingly. "Alright, but if it happens again…" he said with a knowing smile. "Just wait here; I'll go check the messages in the back room. I might as well get something out of the way since we're here."

Paris sat on the stool, swinging her legs in boredom as she waited for Chris to come back. There was a low rumbling coming from the shadows. It almost sounded like something was growling. Paris stopped swinging her legs. The noise stopped. She was about to start again when soft footsteps padded across the floor. A grey wolf emerged into the light. It looked towards her, ears up, mouth open slightly like a friendly dog waiting to play ball. Paris froze and stared back at it. It was a wolf, after all. Wild animals were dangerous, and what was one doing in the middle of the club anyway?

"Chris!" she called out, her voice barely making it out of her throat in a mangled cry for help. She tried again and managed to get a bit more volume this time. "Chris!"

The wolf began pacing in a circle. Paris was too afraid to take her eyes off of it. Chris walked out of the back room onto the main floor, and Paris chanced taking her eyes off the animal to look at Chris with a certain kind of desperation.

"Chris, stop!" Paris cried.

"What?" he asked, slightly annoyed but still stopping anyway.

"There's a wolf in the club," she explained.

"Where?" Chris followed, looking around.

"Right there," Paris said pointing in front of her. The wolf was gone. "Or, maybe, in the shadows?"

Chris looked away with an aggravated sigh then headed over to where she had pointed; to where the shadows hung like dark fingers reaching out to the bar. There was nothing there. He stopped, turning around to look at her.

"There's nothing here, Paris," he said.

Suddenly the shadow took on a form of its own, rising and engulfing him like an oil slick, pulling him down into the ground.

"Chris!" Paris screamed.

In a matter of seconds he was gone. She pushed herself off the stool, rushing over to the spot where Chris had been. She dropped to her knees, patting the floor. It was solid. There was no way he could have been dragged into it.

"Uncle Leo!" she yelled. She didn't know if it would work. She'd never tried calling a whitelighter before.

After a moment with no response, Paris realised she was going to have to find a way back to the house. She couldn't orb, she couldn't drive, and she couldn't stay here with a wolf running around the club. She had a general idea where the club was in relation to the manor. Just down a few streets, through a park, down a few more streets and you're there. It wouldn't be that far to walk.

Making sure the door was locked behind her, she made her way over to the park. The wind picked up as she followed the path, skittering a collection of leaves and litter over and around her feet. One rather large piece of paper that had been torn from a sketch pad wrapped around her leg. She stopped and shook it off, letting it tumble face up on the ground. It was a drawing, a very good one at that, of some kind of bony alien creature that had an odd resemblance to Predator. She shivered and continued along her way.

There was a sound of something rushing up behind her. At first she thought it was the wind, but once the foul stench reached her nose, she realised exactly what it was. It wasn't the wind; it was the monster from her vision. She lifted her heels and ran, running as fast as she could, leaping over branches and rocks, dodging the trees and the bushes. She was running blindly, not knowing where she was going, but knowing that she had to get away. She chanced a glance over her shoulder as she found the pathway again. The monster, the one that was chasing her, it was the wolf. Only now it didn't look like an innocent playful puppy, but something much more terrible and grotesque. She felt her foot catch on something, and suddenly she was falling, falling down into the dirt. Her arm scratched the rocky surface and she knew there would be a graze there. She looked up frantically as the wolf gained on her, its mouth opening wide ready to attack as it launched off the ground and sailed towards her. Paris screamed, holding up her hands and closing her eyes as the figure's dark shadow came over her. Her hands tingled and grew warm. She heard a howling cry and opened her eyes to see the flaming wolf dropping down on her. She covered her head with her arms, whimpering herself at what was to become her untimely fate. After a moment with no impact she opened her eyes and looked around, lowering her arms from her head. The wind raced over her body. She began to wonder if she'd just imagined it all, but the ash that stained her clothes told her otherwise. She laid her head back down on the ground, tears springing to her eyes. She was alive. She didn't understand how or why, but she was still in one piece.


	4. Chapter 4

By natural instinct, the first thing Chris attempted to do was orb his way out from under the dark mass. It let go its hold on him backing away at the light of the orbs. Chris looked around, saw he was down in the underworld, and groaned.

"I guess this means it's already opened," he said to himself.

The black shadow again began to roll towards him and he jumped out of the way.

"Think quick, Chris. You know the book inside out. How do you defeat a shadow demon?"

He remembered how it had let go of him when he tried to orb away. He orbed to the other side of the room. The shadow began tossing and turning like wild waves, rolling towards him and then rolling away when he orbed somewhere else. After about five attempts of doing this, Chris realised it was getting him nowhere. It was an endless game of catch-me-if-you-can that neither of them was going to win. He needed another plan.

Looking around his surroundings he saw this crypt of a cavern was pretty much bare. One lone flaming torch burned on the wall, providing just enough light for the shadow to survive. Chris orbed over to it. He wasn't going to put it out. If he placed himself in eternal night, who knows what would happen. Instead he ripped it from the wall and held it in front of him. The shadows flickered at his feet. He passed the torch in front of him. The shadow crept back a little.

"C'mon, take a shot at me," Chris taunted. "Or are you just going to be a useless dark mass like the Blob or… or Flubber?"

He pulled the torch back, giving it an easy shot at him. The shadow demon sprang forward like a wild animal and Chris thrust the torch into the belly of it – or what would pass for a belly if it had one. It let out a high-pitched squeal like a pig in great danger, and then burst into pieces. Suddenly the room wasn't as dark as what it had been.

"Now, for a way to get out of here," Chris said, looking around.

There was a small opening to his left that was covered in some kind of stringy mass. He walked over and placed the flame of the torch against it, setting it alight and watching it burn upwards, fragmenting down. He crouched down and walked through the narrow tunnel, holding the torch steady in front of him, at the same time trying not to burn his face as the flames flickered backwards. The tunnel ran flat for a while until he reached a point where it rose on a sharp incline. He sighed with frustration, patting on the wall but finding his only way out would be to climb. He laid the torch on the ground, watching as it smouldered out, before wedging his fingers into the cracks and lifting himself up onto the slope. He found the going slippery, his feet sliding out from under him as he progressed. Parts of the wall were slimy, residue from left over rain that had tumbled down into this little hidey hole. He hoisted himself over the edge and tumbled into an open area. His hands and clothes were covered in brown muck. He looked up, squinting into the sun, and figured he was in a place which wouldn't prevent him orbing out.

"Here goes," he said and orbed back to P3. It was empty. "Paris?"

He searched around the main room, and even the back room. She was nowhere to be found. Chris panicked, wondering what would happen when his aunt, or even his mother, found out he'd lost her. He orbed himself back to the manor.

"Chris?" Piper said, spying him through the kitchen doorway. He grimaced at being caught and slowly made his way into her. "Honey, are you okay? What happened?"

"Shadow demon," he answered.

"Shadow demon?" Piper repeated disbelievingly. "And they became slimy creatures when?"

"It was his… oh, nevermind," Chris said, giving up on trying to explain it all. "The important thing is that someone really did get to Melaina, and that they definitely reopened the underworld."

"I see." Piper glanced behind him. "And where did you leave your cousin while all this was going on?"

"Paris? Well… uh…"

"She's here," Leo said, guiding Paris through the front door.

Paris looked at Chris and screwed her nose up when she saw he was covered in some kind of slimy substance. "Ew."

"Thanks," Chris said. "Nice to see you too."

"Looks like you've both been through some trouble tonight," Leo said.

Piper came out of the kitchen and tapped Chris's shoulder. "Go on, go upstairs and get changed out of that, then throw it in the laundry."

Chris glanced back to his mother then went upstairs without saying a word. She gingerly pulled her hand back and shook it, looking at her fingers to see if she'd gotten any of the stuff on her. She put her hands on her thighs and looked at Leo and Paris who were still standing in the hallway.

"So where have you two been?" Piper questioned.

"I found her in the park," Leo explained. "She was being chased by a Lupine."

"It didn't bite you did it?" Piper asked concerned. Paris shook her head.

"She, ah, blew it up," Leo explained.

"What, like…?" Piper motioned with her hands, indicating her own power of molecular combustion.

"No, I…" Leo looked down at Paris. "I'm not really sure yet. I don't know what her abilities are."

"You didn't tell mom, did you?" Paris suddenly piped up in a frightened voice.

"No, no," Piper answered, shaking her head and cocking it to the side. "I haven't tried again."

Chris reappeared at the bottom of the stairs, his hand still on the head of the banister as he looked between them all.

"So, dad, any word from the Elders?" Chris asked.

Leo moved Paris into the living room and sat her down on the lounge. Chris and Piper followed.

"They want you to be her whitelighter, Chris," Leo said.

"What? Who?" Chris questioned.

"Paris. She needs one. You get to be the lucky overseer."

"Dad, no! I don't have time!" Chris complained.

"Why not?" Leo said, having the eerie feeling he'd had this conversation with Chris before.

"Because I just… don't. Why do I have to oversee her, anyway? She's my cousin. Can't someone else do it?"

"You don't get to be a whitelighter without having charges, Chris. That's what we do."

"Need I point out that I'm half witch?" Chris stated.

"All the better," Leo said. "Paris needs to learn and adapt to her new powers. You seem to be well aware of what she's capable of."

"Is this my punishment for kidnapping?" Chris asked, looking back to Piper. She smiled and nodded. Chris gave a defeated sigh and looked at Paris, seated on the lounge with her hands clasped together in her lap. "This is all your fault."

"Chris!" Piper scolded. He dropped onto the lounge across from Paris, annoyed at what he'd just got himself into. Piper looked at Paris who seemed to be trying to act like the good-natured girl her parents thought she was. "This is better for Paris, anyway. She doesn't want Phoebe to know about her powers, and at least with Chris around it won't be quite as obvious that she's trying to learn to control them."

Paris, liking the suggestion, sat up straighter and smiled at Chris, nodding that he should accept the offer. Chris rolled his eyes, looking away.

"Please, Chris," Paris begged. "I couldn't trust anyone but you. And this way mom doesn't find out. Will you help me? Please?"

"Fine," Chris agreed with a wave of his hand, giving in to the three of them. "So when do I start?"

"Right now," Leo said.

"Now?" Chris whined.

"Yes," Leo answered.

Piper looked back to the kitchen. "I'll leave you guys to this. I better get dinner out."

Paris bounced in her seat. "So how does this work? Can you teach me new things? Can I orb?"

She stood, racing over to a clear space in the lounge room, closing her eyes and motioning with her hands. After a moment she opened her eyes again. Chris and Leo were staring at her.

"Guess that doesn't work then," she said, reluctantly sitting back down.

"You can only use the powers that have been given to you," Leo said.

"Which means you can't orb. You're not part whitelighter," Chris added.

Paris stuck her tongue out at him. "Show-off."

Chris rolled his eyes, looking back at his father. "Do I have to do this?"

"Yes," Leo said. He turned his attention back to Paris. "So apart from the blowing up Lupine's trick you pulled, what else have you been able to do?"

"Well I had a premonition about that," she said honestly. She glanced back to Chris. "As well as other things."

Chris leant forward. "See this is the thing I don't get. You had all these powers before we went back in time, and now you're suddenly new to it all again."

"I didn't have them all before we left! Well, okay, I did but only briefly. I'd only just got them then too Chris, it's not my fault what we did ended up with me having no powers when I came back."

"We?" Leo intervened. "Okay you two have some serious explaining to do. What exactly did you two get up to back then? I mean, apart from the stuff I saw."

"Chris never came back before," Paris explained. "He died. Someone stabbed him."

"Almost," Chris countered. He glanced up to Leo, seeing that his father needed an explanation. "Gideon."

"And I thought it was you, that's why I went back to warn him," Paris added. Leo looked shocked.

"Me? Why would I hurt Chris?" he questioned.

"Well you weren't around." Paris shrugged offhandedly. "Plus the temper thing, and Wyatt."

"Hey, hey, hey," Leo held up his hands. "What are you talking about?"

"Wyatt was evil. I went back to change that, remember?" Chris said. Leo nodded slowly.

"So this is the change," Leo said. "Everything improved?"

"I think so," Chris agreed. "But I didn't know any of this underworld stuff. You must never have told me."

"I thought it was in your best interests."

"Well now it's a problem. And I need Paris to help me with it."

"What about Wyatt?" Leo asked.

"Forget Wyatt," Chris snapped, cutting Leo off as he mentioned his brother's name. "He's got to be behind all this."

"How is that plausible, Chris? He's got his own life now. He's so busy at the hospital he barely has time to even talk to us, let alone open up the underworld."

Chris folded his arms, sitting back in the armchair. "There has to be a way he's doing it."

"Look, Chris, I'm not going to fight with you about your brother. You're supposed to be looking after Paris now." Leo turned back to Paris. "So, premonitions. What else can you do?"

She thought for a moment. "I've warped metal things."

"Warped?" Leo questioned.

"Scorched. Melted." Her eyes flicked to the kitchen. "Oh, and apparently I burnt the chicken."

Leo looked at her strangely, trying to work out exactly what to categorise the power under. Chris leant his head back against the chair.

"She has a heat source in her hands," he explained.

"Is that how you destroyed the Lupine?" Leo asked. She lifted a shoulder, a little unsure. "It might be a form of pyrokinesis. Can you do it again?"

Paris lifted her hands, aiming them with the palms facing outwards. Chris moved into action, leaping off his seat and grabbing her hands and twisting the palms so they faced up.

"No, don't! I wouldn't be doing it that way. Mom would kill you if you flamed something else," Chris explained. Paris looked a little guiltily into his eyes. He gave her a reassuring smile. "Hey, don't look so worried. I'll help you get it under control."

"Thanks," she said, and returned his smile.

"So take it easy. Start small," he encouraged. She looked down at her hands. Nothing. Chris tilted his head to the side. "What's the matter?"

"I don't know," she said.

"Well how did you do it before?" Chris persisted. She yanked her hands away, getting angry at him.

"You know, Chris, all I had to do was think about it before. I just had to want it more than nothing else. But now that doesn't work. None of it does. I don't even know if it was worth bringing you back," she shouted.

Chris looked at her in surprise, wondering how she could say such a thing. Her hands suddenly ignited and Chris quickly reached out, folding her fingers over into her palms. He kept a tight hold over the fists he had made from her hands.

"Looks like her emotions are a catalyst," Leo said.

Chris kept his eyes locked on Paris'. "Don't get upset with me. You have to keep calm if you want to do this."

Paris swallowed and sighed, her gaze drifting away. Gradually Chris released his grip on her hands. She looked down at her hands, and again she could see nothing wrong with them. She opened and closed her hand, working her fingers, wondering how exactly that had happened. Chris sat patiently in front of her.

"Are you ready?" Chris asked. She nodded. He put his hands under hers, the palms still facing upwards. "Try."

She stared at her hands. Nothing happened. She looked back up to Chris helplessly.

"Do I have to get mad at you again?" she asked. He chuckled.

"No, just concentrate," he said.

She looked back down, closing her eyes briefly. She heard her uncle telling her to picture it in her mind. She did so. Slowly she opened her eyes and stared at her hand. The centre of her palm sparked and flickered like she'd just lit up a match, then went out again.

"That's a good start," Chris said with a nod of his head.

She smiled and tried again. This time the flame was a little higher, it burnt for a little longer, and went out just as quickly.

"Now you're getting the hang of it," Chris encouraged.

"Maybe she should try something else?" Leo suggested.

"Like what?" Chris asked. Leo held out his hand and generated an energy ball, quickly putting it out before Piper could spot him. "Oh that."

"Leo!" Piper called.

He glanced from Chris to Paris. Paris was smirking as if she suspected he was in trouble. "I'll be right back."

"How's she going?" Piper asked as Leo joined her in the kitchen doorway.

"Good," Leo said positively. "She's making progress."

Piper glanced over his shoulder, watching as Chris patiently sat with Paris, giving her a little encouragement every now and then. She seemed to be listening intently to him, appreciating his help. Piper looked back to Leo and smiled.

"Our little boy's a good teacher, huh?" she said.

"That he is."

"You know if this doesn't work out, at the club, maybe I should give Paige a call and see if he can help out at the magic school."

"Don't you think he wants to spend time with his family right now?" Leo asked, looking at Piper doubtfully.

"Yes I know I said that, but…" She looked at Chris thoughtfully. "I don't want to be holding him back from anything."

"He's on a learning curve. Things will work out. You know Chris, he may get into trouble, but he always lands back on his feet."

"With a little help from his family," Piper added, her lips curving into a smile.

"Exactly," Leo said. He softly patted her arm and then turned back to Paris and Chris, heading around the couch to where he had just stood. "How's it going?"

"I think I got it," Paris said happily. She held out her palm and instantly a small flame ignited. "I wanna try the ball."

"Go ahead," Leo said, nodding encouragingly.

She closed her eyes, screwing up her face in concentration as she tried to picture a ball exactly like the one Leo had shown her. She felt something move in her hand and opened her eyes. A flame lit, dividing like the Red Sea, and spilling up and around into a sphere-like shape. At first she was happy, but then she looked at it a little worried. It wasn't glowing with a blue essence like her uncle's, but with an angry red colour. She glanced to Chris. He smiled and passed his hand over the top in a circular motion, as if he was patting the back of a cat. The red colour dissolved, lightening and changing into the same whitish-blue that Leo had produced. Paris gasped in amazement.

"How did you do that?" she asked with awe.

Chris glanced up to his father, smiling with satisfaction. "My father taught me."

"But… why was mine red? Why not blue like yours Uncle Leo?"

"Well I think it has a little something to do with your mother," Leo said. Paris looked at him strangely. "She's absorbed a number of powers over the years - demon powers. Every time someone takes on one of those powers it becomes part of their DNA."

"But didn't Paige stab her to get them out?" Chris interrupted, cringing at the memory. Paris stared at him, horrified. He glanced back, noting what he had just said. "Oh, no, um, the athame. The one you found upstairs from the Witch Wars."

"That was used to drain the powers back from her, yes," Leo explained. "But being exposed to those powers for a series of time and having the ability to use them, it leaves a permanent mark on your DNA. Because of this Paris will probably show signs of demon parentage."

"But that wasn't like pyrokinesis, was it?" Chris asked. "I mean even though it originated from a demon, the energy balls were still blue."

"Well in that case, yes, but she had the ability of pyrokinesis when she was pregnant to the Source."

Chris' jaw dropped. "The Source? Hang on, when was she pregnant to the bad guys?"

"After she married Cole Turner," Leo answered. Paris' eyes lit up, staring at her uncle. She remembered the name from the business card she had flipped over in her mother's old room. She also remembered that her mother had written pages and pages about him in her diaries, but the actual details were now vague in her memory. "She didn't realise that he had been imbued with the power of the Source, and it all became an elaborate plan to produce his evil offspring. His son."

"I have a brother?" Paris asked.

"Well, no, he was vanquished. His power was too great for anyone to handle. He was beginning to take over Phoebe with his powers from the womb."

Chris shook his head, looking annoyed again. "Not another one. Why didn't I?"

"As I said, it all depends on your DNA, and your parentage. Some people's powers are developed sooner than others. It took years for the Charmed Ones to receive all their powers. Wyatt had the majority of his from the womb which is what made him such a dangerous threat. You, Chris, didn't have any until after you were born, and Paris, you are only starting to develop yours now. Everyone is different."

"If Wyatt's such a dangerous threat because of all his powers, how come we don't see him use them more often?" Paris questioned.

Leo smiled. "He's more of a lateral thinker. You will see him use them, but you have to look closely. He's very subtle in the way he does things."

* * *

"Black? Or white with two sugars?" Wyatt thought aloud, staring down at the coffee cup on the bench.

Making up his mind he picked up a sugar packet between thumb and forefinger, tearing it open across the top and easing the contents into the already steaming cup. With the second packet in hand he gently let it go, watching with an amused smile as it hung suspended in the air, pouring its contents into the cup without any physical assistance from himself. He wasn't concerned about anybody catching him out, he always had an offbeat excuse at hand if they did.

The place had quietened down remarkably now that visiting hours were over. Even half the staff appeared to have vanished.

'Must be changeover time,' he thought dully, raising the cup to his lips. The warm liquid did nothing to aid the growling in his stomach. Glancing at the clock on the wall he realised he hadn't eaten in almost twelve hours. 'Mom would be putting some gourmet meal out right about now.' His mouth watered at the thought

He heard his name announced over the loudspeaker and groaned audibly, putting the coffee cup down. All he wanted right now was food and sleep, not more irritable patients and work demands. Slowly he made his way up the hallway, plastering a smile on his face as he rounded the corner into one of the rooms.

"Yes, Mrs Grace?" he said, immediately picking up her file at the end of the bed and leafing through it. It took him only a few short minutes to notice that she wasn't responding, and that a series of nurses were surrounding her. "What happened?"

"She's not responding," one of the nurses said.

"I can see that," he replied grimly.

"Dr. Halliwell," another nurse called from the doorway, motioning for him to come out.

Casting a quick glance at Mrs Grace, Wyatt walked back to the hallway. He heard someone flatline. His beeper sounded. He raced towards the room where he'd heard the flatline, and then the sound echoed somewhere else. All the patients seemed to be dying right at this moment, no matter how healthy their condition was.

"What the hell is going on?" Wyatt asked, confused, running from one room to another.

He was thankful that all the staff seemed to have reappeared. Everyone had divided themselves into the various rooms.

"Jeannie, get Dr. Lee," Wyatt said, seeing one of the nurses he knew quite well. She nodded and raced off.

Wyatt picked up the pace, noticing the trend seemed to be making a progressive line down the corridor. Hoping he would be able to stop whatever was going on he dashed down the hall and around the corner, heading for the last few rooms. He stopped in his tracks as a demon uncloaked before him. It was massive in both height and build, its horns curling in spirals on the top of its head. Wyatt wasn't certain, but he could swear that its skin seemed to move of its own accord. He smirked, looking the demon up and down as its nostrils flared; obviously angered that Wyatt had interrupted him.

"What do we have here?" Wyatt questioned.

"Kegrah," the demon growled, its voice so low that it almost sounded like a stomach rumble instead of speech.

Wyatt stroked his chin, nodding. He knew of Kegrah demons. They were soul-keepers. He'd heard stories long ago of how they used to prey on the sick, the elderly, lurking anywhere that they could easily feed on their habits.

"Ah, I see." Wyatt made a grand sweeping gesture with his hand. "Welcome to San Francisco Memorial. I'm sorry to say that we don't cater for your kind here, so I will have to request you leave. Visiting hours are long over."

The Kegrah growled, taking a step towards Wyatt, disliking the mocking tone in his voice. It raised its hand. Wyatt lifted a finger, shaking it at him.

"Uh uh, I wouldn't do that if I were you," Wyatt warned.

The demon refused to listen and Wyatt snapped his fingers closed, lifting his hand. The demon's skin stopped moving as he glared at Wyatt, his breath coming out in short wheezes through his flaring nose. Wyatt saw the strangulation measure wasn't enough. He lifted the heavy demon so that it levitated off the ground and then threw it backwards, powering up an energy ball as he waited for it to regain its footing.

"I'm not fond of your modus operandi," Wyatt said. "Especially not in places of my business. Now if you care to return a few souls, I'm only happy to allow you a few extra minutes, but I'm afraid you will be unable to persuade me to concede to any further action on your part."

The Kegrah's hand shot forward, a stream of air jetting from it like particles of dirt in the wind. Wyatt activated his shield, letting the grit fall against it and tumble to the ground. Realising he wouldn't have a decent excuse for a bubbled force field being around him, or for the monster in front of him, Wyatt quickly deactivated the shield. The energy ball still in hand he pitched it forward, watching it smoulder as it hit the demon squarely on the chest. The Kegrah growled, bringing its hands forwards and slapping them together, then dropping down and slamming the ground with his huge fists. The floor trembled and Wyatt had to take a step back to try and steady himself. He could hear the trolleys further down the corridor squeak as their wheels moved, and then an almighty metallic crash as they collided with one another and with the walls around them.

"That's hardly fair," Wyatt said to the Kegrah.

Hearing footsteps running up the corridor he had run up earlier, and knowing someone would shortly turn the corner and see them; Wyatt knew he had to do something quick to finish this once and for all. He brought his hands forward, flicking his fingers, and the Kegrah exploded. Wyatt shielded his eyes from the fleshy pieces that blasted out, lowering his arm a little to peek out as he saw something like a small tornado circling on the ground emitting a high-pitched whining noise. Thin wisps of transparent air began to break off and guide their way back into the various rooms. The constant drilling of flatlining stopped, and Wyatt heard the distant echo of steady beeping. He knew he hadn't saved them all, only the last few of the not so severe cases. He lowered his arm as the wind disappeared, running a hand back through his hair as he looked at the mess on the floor.

"Wyatt?" another man in a white coat cried in surprise, stopping in his tracks as he rounded the corner only metres from Wyatt, watching as he turned towards him.

"Davis," Wyatt acknowledged with a nod of his head. He glanced back to the mess on the floor, his eyes cocking back towards Davis. "We're going to need the janitor for that."

Davis nodded, looking past Wyatt towards the mess, trying to determine exactly what it was. Wyatt walked up to him and Davis watched with interest, wondering how he could be so casual about what had just happened. Strange occurrences as these were not part of normal life.

"Do me a favour – look after my patients for me. I've been here for twenty-two hours straight. I need a break; just a short one. I know I should be spending it sleeping, but first I think I have to pay a visit to my little brother. It seems he's in serious trouble."

"Uh, sure Wyatt," Davis agreed hesitantly.

"Thanks," Wyatt said, patting his shoulder, and made his way out of the hospital.


	5. Chapter 5

Piper turned her attention towards the knock at the front door. Or rather a rattle, followed by a short rapid knock. Her eyes scanning the living room and the three in there, she passed by on her way down the hallway to open the door. Pulling it back she saw her eldest son standing there, fumbling around in his pockets. He looked up as the door opened, smiling sheepishly.

"I think I've misplaced my spare key," he said.

Piper grinned back at him, emitting a small laugh as she motioned for him to come in. She turned him around, helping him off with his tan coloured jacket.

"Sweetie, what are you doing here?" she asked. "I thought you'd still be at work."

Hanging his jacket on the coat rack by the door, she turned back to see him sniffing the air and finally clapping his hands, rubbing them together emphatically.

"How could I resist one of your home-cooked meals?" he asked, placing a hand on her arm and leaning down to kiss her cheek. "Smells great, mom."

"Now if I knew a home-cooked meal was the way to get you home more often, I would have done this sooner," she said as he drew back. She motioned with her head towards the living room. "Why don't you go see the others, and I'll heat some up for you."

Wyatt made his way into the living room, seeing his father standing by his cousin, demonstrating something with his hands. Chris was seated on the couch, his back to Wyatt as he came in.

"Hi dad," Wyatt said. He nodded at his cousin as she looked over. "Paris. Hey, little bro."

Wyatt ruffled Chris' hair, Chris pulling away from Wyatt as he knelt down behind the couch, resting his arms on the back of it. Chris glanced back to him, an annoyed look on his face.

"Wyatt," he said simply in greeting.

After noticing his brother was paying more attention to Leo and Paris than himself, Chris turned back to watch them also.

"And I advise you not to go out seeking demons now," Leo finished instructing Paris, giving a sideways glance towards Chris. "Despite what Chris says."

"Oh, I met one today," Wyatt said cheerily. Leo diverted his stare towards his eldest son. "A Kegrah. Nice fella, though a bit too fleshy for my tastes."

Wyatt wrinkled his nose. Chris spun himself around to face his brother.

"Wait, you…" Chris began.

"Were attacked too," Leo finished solemnly. He looked between the three faces seriously. "Looks like there is a new power emerging and it's tied to the three of you."

"See, I always knew I was important," Wyatt said smugly. Chris rolled his eyes.

"It's not like she came to you," Chris scoffed quietly.

"Who?" Wyatt snapped, overhearing him.

Chris made a move to bite back when Piper reappeared in the living room, her hands outstretched.

"Boys, boys!" she scolded sharply as she walked towards them. She took hold of Wyatt's left ear with her left hand and lifted him to his feet, smacking him on the rear with her right. "You, go eat dinner, it's getting cold, and Chris," Piper turned back to him as Wyatt left for the kitchen, "stop tormenting your brother."

Chris looked at his mother in surprise. He hadn't started it, Wyatt had. Looking to his father for some backup he saw the disappointed look on his face. Chris looked down quickly, remembering his father's request before he had come back to the future, remembering agreeing that Wyatt would be a changed person, he would be good now, and not to treat him as the bad person he once was. His eyes trailing up back towards the kitchen doorway, he thought this over. Wyatt really wasn't a changed person. He was still pompous, still arrogant. He just wasn't the ruler of all evil anymore, and that was only because the Elders had this time around decided to close off the underworld from him. But already he was meeting demons, gathering ideas, and Chris was a little worried that perhaps everything he had done was in vain. That no matter what was changed, what became a preventative measure, that fate was always going to lead Wyatt back to that same destiny. He smiled bleakly at his mother, glad that she at least was still with them this time around.

Paris watched Wyatt move into the next room. Curious, she decided to follow. She hadn't spoken much to Wyatt since they had returned. Only on the night she'd come back, but even then she was still stunned over the change in him. It was odd, and a little hard to accept. She inched into the kitchen wanting to know more, to be certain he really was a changed man. Wyatt glanced up at her from behind the table.

"Well look who it is," he said. He lifted his knife, pointing it at the chair across from him. "Sit, sit."

Paris slid into the chair, watching him cut another piece off the chicken and lift it to his mouth. He chewed on it slowly, closing his eyes as he savoured the taste in his mouth.

"Mmm," he said, swallowing it down. "So much better than hospital food. Not quite so bland."

Paris folded her hands in her lap, not quite sure what she should say to him. Wyatt noticed her fidgety manner and stopped what he was doing.

"You can relax, I'm not going to bite," he said. His eyes twinkled with the humour of the suggestion. It did nothing to ease Paris' nerves.

"I don't know what to say," she offered honestly.

"Parler non ensukte," Wyatt replied. She looked at him blankly. "Ah, you haven't made that trip to France yet."

"Mom and dad are taking me in the fall," Paris quickly explained. Wyatt didn't show any interest, instead stuffing his mouth with more of the white meat in front of him.

"You know," Wyatt began, his mouth still full as he looked up and pointed the knife at her. Paris drew back a little. He seemed oblivious to her reaction. "You really should learn French. It's part of your namesake."

"Then you should be an electrician. That's part of yours," Paris replied. Wyatt raised an eyebrow.

"That's watt, not Wyatt," he said.

"Oh," Paris blushed at her mistake, directing her eyes downwards. She heard Wyatt chuckle as he returned to his meal.

"So you finally found out you had powers, huh?" he said with a derisory smile. "Took you long enough."

"I had them before…" Paris began to argue. Looking at his face she realised he knew nothing of what had happened prior to her homecoming. "Before now."

"I saw dad was coaching you," he said.

"Oh, he's not. Chris is."

"Chris?" Wyatt asked with a mocking laugh. "My little brother? Well I thought they would have given the job to someone with a little more expertise."

"What do you mean?"

"All I'm saying is that if you need a little extra guidance, you can always come to me. I've got plenty of powers up my sleeve, and surely some of yours, so I'm more knowledgeable when it comes to using them," he explained. Paris looked at him suspiciously. "Just think about it."

"Everything okay in here?" Piper asked as she came back into the room. Paris spun in her chair to watch her; glad she could divert her attention to someone else.

"Brilliant," Wyatt answered. "We were just discussing Paris' trip to France."

"Oh, that reminds me, I forgot to try Phoebe again. I have to ice the cake first… unless you want to call her Paris? She'd probably be happy to hear from you," Piper said.

Paris nodded emphatically. Apart from trying to escape any more conversation with Wyatt, she knew her mother would freak out less if she was the one to call. At least this way her aunt wouldn't spill the beans about her powers either. She walked over and picked up the receiver where Piper had left it, watching as Wyatt stood from the table to place his empty plate in the sink.

"That was exquisite, mom. Thank you," Wyatt said.

Piper smiled at him as she pulled the cake form the oven, sitting it on the benchtop to cool. She pulled out a bowl, filling it with icing sugar and food colouring. Retrieving a spoon from the drawer she began to mix it all together by hand, watching Paris as she meticulously dialled the numbers to call her mother. From the corner of her eye she could see Wyatt peering over at the contents of the bowl. Eventually his curiosity led to a hand snaking towards it, preparing to dip a finger. Piper smacked his hand away.

"Uh uh. You can wait till it's on the cake. Then u can have some," she said. Wyatt pouted. Piper gave him a stern look. "Wait."

"Hello?" Phoebe answered on the other end of the line. Paris' body jerked upright, as if her mother was right in front of her and had just caught her doing something she shouldn't be.

"Mom, hi," she managed to get out.

"Paris, honey, you're okay," Phoebe said, relief apparent in her voice. "Where are you? You weren't here when I got home, and there was no note around. I was starting to wonder how long they were keeping you behind at school."

Paris looked up at the clock and saw how late it was. She knew her mother was just saying that, she would never be at school at such a late hour.

"I'm fine, mum. Really. I'm at Aunt Piper's."

"Piper's? How on earth did you get there?"

"Um… Chris," Paris said reluctantly, not wanting to get him into any more trouble.

"Chris?" Phoebe questioned.

"He orbed me over from school," Paris explained. There was silence on the other end. Paris began to wonder if they'd lost the connection but finally her mother spoke.

"Honey, do me a favour, will you?" she asked sweetly. "Go find Chris for me and put him on the phone. I need to talk to him."

Glancing over at Piper and Wyatt, Paris made her way into the living room, holding the phone out to Chris.

"My mom wants to speak to you," she said.

Chris looked first at the phone, and then at his father who turned his head away to hide the smirk on his face. He knew Chris was going to be in trouble with Phoebe. Chris sighed heavily, taking the phone from Paris and pressing it to his ear.

"Aunt Phoebe?" he questioned.

"You bet your little behind it's me," Phoebe said angrily. "What were you thinking, Chris? Orbing my daughter out during the middle of school?"

"It wasn't during school. Just at school. Everyone was going home then," Chris tried to explain.

"What if someone saw you?" she retaliated.

"No-one saw us. We were in the bathroom."

"Oh, please, Chris, don't tell me you snuck into the girl's locker rooms?"

"What? No."

"'Cause you know you could be in serious trouble for that," Phoebe continued.

"No, no, it wasn't anything like that!" Chris protested. "No-one was around. Honestly. I checked."

"I'm not finished," Phoebe said. "Not only did you orb your cousin away from school in broad daylight, but you didn't even tell us that she was gone. Not a note, a phone call, an email, nothing. And aside from all that, you also exposed her to a world of magic that she's never known before. I would have liked to fill her in on some of the minor details before you went and started orbing her all over the place when and if you feel like it."

"Feel better?" Chris asked, sensing her rant had finished.

"Yes," Phoebe said shortly.

"Want to know why I did it?" he questioned further.

"I could say no but I suppose you're going to tell me anyway."

"She was part of a prophecy. I need her help to battle the underworld."

"You're unbelievable, Chris. She's only a teenager! You can't have her running around fighting demons because of some vague prophecy you heard. What about your brother? Why can't you get Wyatt to help you?"

"Because…" Chris paused in thought. He couldn't tell her that he thought Wyatt was the evil force behind all this. Glancing over to his father he remembered what he had said earlier. "Because we're all a part of it. Dad said so. Which means that if we don't have all the pieces together, we're never going to solve this thing."

"Solve it?" Phoebe sighed heavily. "Why am I so surprised by this? The amount of little prophecies and plans you had going back when you were periodically our whitelighter, chasing one demon after another, ordering us to vanquish this demon who was a threat to Wyatt only to find out you were wrong, and then suddenly you decided it was another demon. Chris, did you ever think that you could be wrong?"

"I'm not this time," Chris said confidently.

"Tell Leo to bring Paris home. I'll discuss this whole prophecy thing with him when he gets here."

"No! She can't leave! Not yet," Chris said.

"Oh my god, Chris, stop being so dramatic. The world isn't ending tomorrow. Besides, you can't go bossing Paris around like you're her whitelighter. You have to leave that in the past."

"Actually I am."

"Actually you are what?"

"Her whitelighter."

"For heaven's sake! Who came up with that idea?"

"The Elders. And before you get all antsy about it, dad went up and saw them, not me. Believe me I was just as happy about it as you are. I don't need the extra responsibility."

"Well your cousin is your responsibility now. Just make sure she gets her homework done in-between running around and helping you, okay? No more orbing out of school. And please will one of you bring her home? Her father's going to worry what's going on."

Chris grumbled in answer, hearing the dial tone as Phoebe hung up the other end. He pressed the button on the cordless handset to hang up his end and almost jumped when the phone rang in his hand.

"Hello?" Chris answered.

"Where's Piper? Put her on," Brett said breathlessly on the other end.

"What? Huh?" Chris replied, confused by the abruptness.

"Chris, it's Brett." There was a pause as he waited to hear Chris moving. Hearing nothing he continued, frustrated: "Just put her on, will you?"

Chris looked at Paris, and then his father, pushing himself up off the couch with the phone still plastered to his ear. Walking into the kitchen he saw his mother was icing the cake she had made.

"Mom, phone," Chris said shortly.

Piper looked up, handing the spatula over to Wyatt to finish the job, giving him a warning look so that he would complete the task before digging into more food. She wiped her hands on a stray tea towel and walked over to Chris, taking the phone away from him.

"It's Brett," Chris mouthed quietly, wrinkling his nose up.

"Hello, Brett?" Piper said, raising the receiver to her shoulder and cradling it in the crook as she went back over to Wyatt, taking hold of his hand and guiding him so that he would spread the icing evenly.

"Piper, you have to get to the club. Something really bad has gone on here."

"You're at the club?" Piper questioned. "What are you doing there? We're closed tonight."

"Look, it doesn't matter. Just come, okay? It's an emergency."

"What's wrong?" Piper asked, beginning to get worried. She heard a dial tone. He'd hung up. "Brett? Brett?"

Frustrated she hit the button to hang up her end of the phone, putting it back onto the kitchen counter as she looked across to Chris.

"There's a problem at the club. Brett wants me over there," she explained.

"What? Why?" Chris questioned. Thinking back to what had happened to him earlier he began to shake his head, concerned. "No, mom, don't go. Let me go. It's too dangerous."

Piper tilted her head, raising her eyebrows at him. "Too dangerous? For me? Have you forgotten what we've been through?"

"Yeah, mom, but—"

"Honestly if you're that concerned, I'll take Leo with me. I'll need a way to get there quickly anyway. He can orb me over."

Chris looked over to Wyatt for support, but saw his brother was taking no notice of the conversation between them. Piper patted his arm, kissing his cheek quickly as she passed.

"Don't worry, sweetie, I won't be that long."

"Are you just going to let her go?" Chris demanded, his eyes still fixed on Wyatt.

Wyatt casually lifted his gaze from the cake to Chris. "Now being as I have to choose between cake, hospital rounds, and my mother, I think your whinging and a minor mishap at the club come last on my list." He lifted his arm, looking at the face of his watch. "And it seems I'm long overdue, so if you'll excuse me."

Hurriedly he cut a chunk out of the cake, lifting it to his mouth and holding a hand underneath to prevent the crumbs from falling as he bit into it. He passed Paris on his way out the door and she glanced quickly from him to Chris, wondering what exactly was going on. Chris sighed, folding his arms as he looked towards the door then back to his cousin as she stepped into the room.

"Your mom wants you home," he said. Paris nodded obediently. "But she wanted dad to take you."

"But he just—"

"I know, he's gone with mom," Chris said, cutting her short. "Do you want me to take you?"

Paris shrugged. "Maybe I should call mom again. Or dad - he might be fairer."

"Come get me when you do," Chris said with a nod, brushing past her on his way into the hallway.

Paris walked over to the kitchen counter, her hand dropping over the top of the receiver. She jolted as a white flash ran through head, momentarily blotting her vision. She saw Chris dangling in the air, Wyatt in front of him. They were in the hallway. The premonition ending, Paris stood motionless staring at the phone. It had seemed oddly familiar. In fact she remembered having walked in on them fighting once before, but not in this time. It was before she went back for Chris. Back when Wyatt was really evil. She couldn't even remember what it had been about, some master plan or something.

Forgetting completely about calling her parents, she turned her head and heard a yelp. Racing back into the hallway she saw Chris hanging mid-air above the stairway, clutching at his throat – just like her premonition, just like before. Wyatt watched with interest from the front door, his hand partially raised as he shrugged his jacket on.

"Put him down!" Paris demanded. Wyatt's gaze momentarily flicked towards her before returning back to his brother.

"Wyatt, don't!" Chris managed to choke out.

"I told you to let him go!" Paris shouted, the flames lighting up in the palm of her hand.

"Tsk, tsk," Wyatt said, shaking his head as he looked at her.

Paris pitched the ball forward, watching as the ball of flame closed in on Wyatt.


	6. Chapter 6

Piper let go of Leo's hand as they landed in the club, Leo placing them well out of sight so Brett wouldn't see the orbs. The first thing she noticed was that the interior was shrouded in darkness.

"Brett?" she called. "Brett?"

There was no answer. The lights flickered to life as she turned on the switch. Looking around she saw that not a thing was out of place. Peering into the back room she saw that everything was still as it had been the last time she had been in there with Chris.

"I don't get this. Where is he?" she asked Leo, walking back to him. Leo shrugged, looking around but not moving.

"I'll try sensing for him," Leo offered. He closed his eyes, concentrating as he tried to pick up a signal of Brett or any danger that could be lurking in the shadows. Finally he shook his head. "Nothing. There isn't a problem here, Piper. Are you sure he said here?"

"I'm positive." She walked behind the bar, looking around for some kind of clue. Spotting a crumpled piece of yellow paper sticking out from underneath the register she inched closer, leaning down and plucking it out. Unravelling the paper she saw that it was a leaflet for the band that had played at their club the other night – Picasso View. Something clattered against the bar, but Piper's attention was fully fixed on the leaflet for the moment. She smoothed it out with her hand. "Leo, look at this."

Leo walked around the bar, standing beside her and lifting the paper into his sight, scrutinizing over what was scribbled across it. Red ink, ancient text. The only thing readable in plain English was Melaina's name.

"Looks like some kind of incantation," he said. "Maybe I should get the Elders to check it out."

"No need," Piper said, lifting up what had tumbled out of the paper. It was a fragmented piece of a green object, shiny like glass and smooth as polished stone. "I know who's behind this."

"From a chipped piece of stone?" Leo questioned.

"I've seen this before. Chris showed it to me. This belongs to Melaina."

"So he wasn't paranoid for nothing." He directed his eyes away from the stone and towards Piper's face. "You're… not suggesting Chris is behind this?"

"No. Not him. Someone else we trusted."

* * *

"Teenagers." Wyatt sighed, seeing the flames closing in on him. Artfully he orbed out, the ball smashing against the front door as he reappeared at the top of the staircase, just within view of them.

Paris looked up quickly, seeing him closing his hands into fists again. She took a step towards the staircase and then saw him throw his arms out to the side.

'He really has lost it!' she thought.

Chris dropped to the floor, supporting himself with one hand as he rubbed his neck with the other. Paris looked at him briefly as he hit the ground then followed his gaze back to the staircase. There was a man folded into the corner, his invisibility cloak having peeled away thanks to Wyatt's roughness.

"Brett?" Chris asked hoarsely, coughing as he tried to clear his throat a little.

"No, the blue fairy. Who else do you think it is?" Brett asked.

"But…" Chris coughed again. "You're supposed to be at the club."

Brett pushed himself up off the floor, making a show of brushing his arms as he glared at Chris.

"You really are thick. That was a rouse, to get to you." Brett turned his attention from Chris to Wyatt. "Only I wasn't expecting him to be here."

Wyatt lifted his head defiantly, waiting for Brett to make a move against him.

"Nor her," Brett continued, indicating towards Paris. "I thought you'd be dog food by now."

Angered, Paris moved her hand in preparation of making a second flame ball. Catching Wyatt's eye she saw him hold his hand up, indicating she should hold off.

"First lesson, analyse the situation before you start attacking. You don't want to hurt a compatriot," she heard Wyatt say. Looking around she saw that no-one else had heard him. In fact, he didn't even move his lips.

'Um, are you in my head?' she thought.

'Put your hand down,' he replied. Obediently she did so. 'What do you see?'

'I don't know. You, Chris, a guy who doesn't really seem to like any of us.'

'Right. Your adversary.'

"Your little blonde friend was very helpful," Brett said to Chris. "I thought for a minute everything would be ruined, but you of course put yourself before anyone else. You actually helped me out. Perhaps I should be thanking you?"

"Wait, you knew who she was? The whole time you knew?" Chris questioned.

"Oh, grand gatekeeper, bow down to thee," Brett said mockingly, waving his hands in the air. "Of course, I knew, do you think I'm stupid? She held the key to unimaginable power, and I was able to get it from her and destroy her in the process. Now the underworld has reopened to do my bidding."

"That's too much power for one man," Wyatt spoke up.

"Maybe. Especially if the forces of good keep getting in the way," Brett explained. "But being as Chris was the only one that knew, I thought it would be easy to get rid of him. I see my first attempts didn't work." He looked at both Chris and Paris. "But this, this plan was simple. Get rid of the parents, destroy the one person who was even aware of the situation whilst he was alone and defenceless, and then by doing so bring down the new Power of Three."

Paris exchanged glances with Wyatt and Chris. All she knew of the Power of Three was something her mother had mentioned in her journals a long time ago, something involving her mother, her aunt Piper, and her aunt Prue who she had never known.

"I didn't know about this," Chris said, looking up at Wyatt through the railings.

"Neither did I. Someone should have filled us in on that little tidbit of information," Wyatt said.

"Alright, enough of this idle chit-chat. I'm not going to achieve anything if I have to stand here and talk to you all day," Brett said.

"No, of course not, unless you care to divulge more information," Wyatt said casually.

"You already know too much. I guess that just means I have to get rid of all three of you now," he responded.

Paris felt herself suddenly being lifted in the air. She kicked her feet but the only thing that achieved was to make her body swing about more wildly. She realised her head, or more accurately her neck, was rather motionless itself. The further she floated up, the more she felt like she was being thrust about eighteen feet in the air, beyond any level where there was a capacity to breathe.

"Paris," Wyatt said steadily.

She took it as an indication to do what she liked. Flicking her hand out, she generated a flame ball and threw it down towards Brett. He moved forward towards Wyatt, the ball crashing onto the carpeted landing, leaving a nice scorch mark behind as it dissipated.

"Piper's not going to like that," Brett said, shaking his head with disparagement as he looked at the damage.

Turning his attention back to Wyatt he saw that he had taken a step back, his hand lowered and slightly angled further back from his body. He cocked his head, looking Piper's eldest son up and down as he tried to asses what he was up to.

"Scared, are we?" Brett surmised.

"Excalibur!" Wyatt called.

"Uh uh," Brett said, seeing the sword orbing its way into Wyatt's hand. He waved his own and watched as the orbs made a steady trail away from Wyatt's hand and out of the room.

Wyatt glanced down at his empty hand. "Definitely non demon," he grumbled.

"Guiding lights in this ancient hour, take away this mortal's power," Brett intoned.

Realising Brett was approaching him almost too late; Wyatt had barely enough time to raise his deflection shield to counter the spell. Chris, on the other hand, was the only one not currently under attack and faced a radical decision of whether or not to help his brother. Instinct taking over, he lifted his hand and began to wave it to throw Brett back into the wall, but this time it didn't work. Brett didn't move – literally.

"Nice going, little bro," Wyatt said, looking down at his brother with a smirk on his face.

Chris pulled his hands back, looking them over as he now realised what his brother had worked out so quickly – he'd gained a new power, or rather inherited one from his mother. Now his only problem was that if his temporal stasis power worked so similarly to his telekinetic one, his powers were now too volatile to be used adequately in this situation.

The spell rebounding off Wyatt, it returned back to the caster. Brett, now frozen, had no opportunity to avoid the attack. A pale yellowish light began to glow around him and lift away up through his body then through the roof. Paris crashed to the ground.

"Ow!" she cried, feeling the edge of her kneecap hit the floorboards as the rest of her body crumpled over the top. She looked up towards Wyatt and Brett on the staircase. "Now what?"

"Well we should really vanquish him, although I haven't quite determined what he is," Wyatt said.

"Should we get the book?" Paris asked, remembering the large tome Chris had been flicking through earlier – the one he always was flicking through.

"No, there's not enough time," Chris said. "I've never done this before." He went to indicate towards Brett but stopped his hands short, realising he might just do the wrong thing. "I don't think it's going to hold for long."

"What about the power of three spell?" Paris asked. "He did say we were the new power of three."

Wyatt and Chris both looked at her curiously. Shyly she drew back at their stare, wondering if they had any idea what she was talking about. She only knew because it had been in her mother's early journals – her mother, her Aunt Piper and her Aunt Prue who had died long ago used the power of three spell all the time after they'd first banded together.

"Well, what do you know? Little miss uneducated finally comes up with the goods," Wyatt said with an uneasy laugh. "You mind filling us in?"

"I don't remember it," Paris replied, and truthfully she didn't. It was one of the first journals she had read, and it was an awful long time ago. Another time even, before she'd chased after Chris. Too many things were hazy from that alternate future, and she couldn't quite place her finger on all of them. The memories were starting to fade in favour of new ones – the ones that had been developed by the changes she had made in the past when she had gone back to save him. She looked over to Chris. "But it should be in the book."

Chris stared at her for the longest time. She could see behind his eyes that his own memory was stirring as he tried to think back through the pages, trying to place the spell inside the book. Finally he remembered it, short and simple, etched onto one of the first few pages in the Book of Shadows.

"The power of three will set us free," he finally recited. He looked up to Wyatt, repeating it again. This time surprised to find that Wyatt and Paris had both joined him in saying it.

Completing it for the third time, they watched as Brett blew up. Unlike the Kegrah, he left no remnants of himself behind. Paris, now standing, looked back down at her knee, lifting her leg a little to rub it.

"Didn't think that would work," Wyatt said with surprise, his eyebrows raised as he stared at the vacant spot in front of him.

He turned his head at the sound of orbs, Leo and Piper orbing in behind Chris. Seeing Chris lift his hand again, this time to rub his neck, Piper immediately dashed to him.

"Oh, honey, are you okay?" she asked, hesitantly reaching out towards him.

"Fine," he said shortly, not looking at her.

Leo stopped beside them, looking up to Wyatt on the staircase. Wyatt blinked his eyes and nodded slowly, his father understanding that this was a signal he was okay.

"Where is he?" Leo asked.

"Who?" Chris replied tiredly.

"Brett," Piper answered.

"The warlock," Leo followed.

"He's gone, dad. Dead. Kaput," Wyatt explained. He looked back to the empty spot in front of him. "Warlock, huh? No wonder that spell was such a hit."

Chris finally looked up at his mother and she smiled back at him. It was a smile of joy, relief and satisfaction that instantly instilled him with a feeling of serenity.

"How did you…?" he started to ask.

"I found this at the club," she said, holding up the piece of stone for him to see. "You would think I would have worked out the difference between a warlock and a normal human being by now, wouldn't you?" she joked. Seeing Leo smile and about to say something, she held a finger up to him. "Shush, you."

Wyatt's heavy feet pounded down the stairs as he came back down to them, adjusting his jacket as he brushed past.

"I really ought to be going now," he said.

"Wyatt," Leo called. Wyatt turned back at the front doorway. Leo forced a smile onto his face. Anything he had to say to his son, he knew he would have to leave it until later. "Okay."

Wyatt nodded, closing the front door behind him. Piper looked over to Paris, seeing her standing uncomfortably at the bottom of the stairs.

"We should be getting you home. It's late," Piper said.

"Okay," Paris agreed. She took a step towards Piper; limping a little as she did so. Piper immediately turned towards her husband.

"Leo," she said calmly.

Leo moved towards Paris, placing a hand on her shoulder and lowering himself to cover her knee with the other. It glowed for a short time as he healed her.

"No major damage," he said, straightening. He looked at Paris. "Ready to go?"

Paris looked past him to Chris. She wasn't so sure she should be leaving him now. He took the stone from his mother, turning it over in his hand. Feeling her stare, he looked up at her.

"It's alright?" she asked.

"Another day," he said, smiling forlornly.

"Let's go," Paris said to her uncle.

They orbed back to her house. Her mother was sitting on the couch, leafing through a magazine but not really reading it. She looked up as she heard them.

"Leo!" she hissed, jumping off the couch as soon as she spotted them, throwing the magazine behind her. Glancing quickly at the doorway, she took hold of Paris and pulled her away from him as if she expected him to orb her away again.

"It's okay, I'm not staying," Leo said, holding his hands up.

Phoebe lowered herself so that she was face to face with her daughter, her hand still on her arm, the other now reaching up to her cheek to check she was actually physically there and one hundred percent okay.

"You okay, honey?" she questioned. Paris glanced over to Leo and he nodded encouragingly,

"Mom," Paris began. She pulled her hand down off her cheek and led her over to the couch. "Mom I have to tell you something."

"What is it?" Phoebe queried. Seeing that everything was okay, Leo orbed out.

"I have my powers now. I've been hiding them from you because I didn't want you to worry."

"Is that what Chris wanted you for?" she questioned. Paris nodded. "I thought as much. He told me he's your whitelighter now."

"He's good, mom. Don't get him into any more trouble."

"I won't," Phoebe said, sitting back against the couch. "So tell me, what did you learn?"

"Chris and Uncle Leo taught me how to use my powers. And I learnt that I shouldn't base people on their past, or their alternate futures or whatever. Wyatt showed me that I should analyse a situation before I start attacking people."

"And Chris? What did he learn?"

"I think he learnt to trust his brother again."

At the same time as Paris was saying this, Chris was sitting alone in the living room, a picture of him and his brother in his hand. He wiped his fingers across the glass, clearing the dust away. The one in this picture, the one that had left only moments ago, wasn't the same Wyatt he had known. This Wyatt had saved him and, when given the opportunity, had fought for the greater good and not banded together with the evil foe. It would have been simpler if he had joined forces with Brett and taken him and Paris down, but instead he had stood by his brother and cousin and defended them. There was no reason to feel scared or threatened by him now. They all needed to join together in a united force, the new Power of Three, and fight against that which was unleashed from one Warlock's greed for power.

And in that moment of contemplation Chris realised that he had forgiven his brother for what he had done, of which he'd never do again. He was finally able to fulfil his father's request – from now on he was going to treat Wyatt with the respect he deserved, with the kindness that fellow brothers should have for one another, and he was no longer going to live with the impression that Wyatt would turn evil at any moment. Facing temptation, he would turn it down. He was fighting for the greater good now, and he had proved so tonight.

Smiling, Chris stood, placing the frame back on the shelf where he had retrieved it from, and went in search of his parents.

THE END


End file.
